Mihael Keehl's Incredibly No Good, Very Bad Year
by xElementFivex
Summary: Mello's diary. His thoughts on everything from Near's undying hatred to Matt's potential case of rabies. Life isn't any easier just because you're a hot, leather wearing genius.
1. December

**Let's take a look inside Mihael's twisted mind. And when we're done feel free to review/flame/throwbigrocksatme.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all.**

* * *

_**December 13, 2009**_

Today's my birthday. Roger gave me a diary. A fucking diary. I'm supposed to write in this damn thing to 'release my feelings of agitation and anger'. Whatever. Like I've got anger issues…. Ok I see the point.

My other presents weren't much better. L got me half a chocolate bar. I think he got hungry and ate the other half.

Matt said he got me birthday sex. I got excited. I thought he meant the actual thing. He meant the song by Jeremih. Awkward.

Near gave his undying hatred. Love it.

_**December 17, 2009**_

I dragged Matt outside today because it was snowing. Hey, he hasn't seen the sun in two weeks. I'm just concerned about his health!

Ok that was a lie. I just wanted to wanted to hit him in the face with a snowball to pay him back for sitting on my chocolate bar last week.

So I hit in the face with a snowball. He hit me in the face with a rock.

Remind me never to force Matt to go outside again.

_**December 18, 2009**_

Matt and I went Christmas shopping today. I hate the mall. There are small children everywhere. When I see small children I feel the sudden urge to hit something. Matt was the closest thing to hit, but my face still hurts from yesterday.

Had to drag Matt out of the GameStop. He bit me. Twice. Now my hand hurts too.

Here's what I got everyone:

Matt- the new Pokemon game. I stand much less chance of getting injured if he's busy playing a game.

L- half a piece of cake. Bitch deserves it.

Roger- I'm writing in the fucking diary. Isn't that enough for him?

Near- my undying hatred. He'll love it.

_**December 24, 2009**_

Christmas Eve. Roger made us help decorate the tree. Matt told me I looked like the angel on the top of the tree. I took a swing at him, he ducked. I hit the tree and got a facefull of pine needles.

Apparently I'm allergic. Fuck.

I have to stop writing now. My eyelids are swelling shut.

_**December 25, 2009**_

Merry fucking Christmas. At least my face isn't swollen isn't anymore.

At least I got some decent presents:

Matt- new leather pants. Problem- the butt is cut out. Is that supposed to mean something?

L- half of half a bar of chocolate. This is getting ridiculous.

Roger- allergy medication. Apparently we're keeping the tree up for awhile.

Near- his undying hatred. Love it.

_**December 27, 2009**_

Tried to play a trick on Near today. I jumped out at him and made him knock over his stupid dice tower. He told me I wasn't nearly creative enough in my tormenting tactics and that's why I'll never be the next L.

Stupid brat.

Locked myself out of my room. Karma sucks.

_**December 30, 2009**_

Heater broke. Keep waking up in the morning with Matt in my bed. I try to kick him out, and he growls in his sleep.

I think he's got rabies.

That reminds me, I'm still not sure about those pants he gave me for Christmas….

Tomorrow is New Years.

I'm going to a party. Now how to sneak out without Roger noticing…

See you next month. Whatever.

* * *

**Reviews? Flames? Flying Rocks?**

**I welcome them all.**


	2. January

**Second chapter, worse than the first.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all.**

* * *

_**January 1**__**st**__**, 2010**_

Guess what, diary. It's a brand new year!

Whoop-de-freaking-do.

Remember that New Year's party I mentioned? Yeah, I went. It was certainly a party.

If by party, you mean a bunch of Wammy's kids sitting around in the woods, passing around warm beer.

Let it now be known: orphans are _fucking depressing_ to party with.

My New Year's resolutions:

1) Beat Near

2) Buy Matt a muzzle. (Seriously, what is up with him and biting me?)

3) Meet L

4) Beat Near

_**January 5**__**th**__**, 2010**_

I'm in a terrible mood today. Near beat me on a test. Again. Bet ya didn't see that one coming, did you?

Matt told me I'm on my man-period. So, I told him what really happened to his gameboy. He was not pleased.

Roger says the swelling on my face will probably go down in a few days. I need a new best friend. Preferably one that doesn't punch as hard.

_**January 11**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Huge snowstorm today. Power went out for five hours. Here's a breakdown of interesting behavior I observed when Matt was cut off from his video games:

Hour 1: Anger. Lots of things thrown across room. Barely escaped being decapitated by a dictionary.

Hour 2: Denial. Continually tried to turn on various game systems. Refused to believe power was out.

Hour 3: Begging. Got down on hands and knees and prayed to the god of video games. Huh, didn't know he existed.

Hour 4: More anger. Had to leave the room. Near death experience? I think yes.

Hour 5: Delusions. Talked to television for forty five minutes straight. Considered calling for a straitjacket, but the phones are still down. Decided to just watch instead.

Since I know you're just dying to know, he was just fine once the power came back on. Except for that weird eye twitch. Yeah. Don't really know what to do about that.

_**January 16**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Matt made me watch Twilight.

My soul is dying. I can feel it.

_**January 21**__**st**__**, 2010**_

Have decided to grow my hair out. The bowl cut is not working out for me.

Maybe one day I'll blow up a building, miraculously survive the blast, and get a super sexy burn scar. It will go perfectly with my shaggy blonde locks.

Yeah. Like that would ever happen.

_**January 26**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Weird shit happened today. Matt and I went to the mall- ugh, again, still hate it by the way- and this group of girls followed us. They seemed to be under the impression that they were Japanese. Possible psychos?

And it didn't stop there. Later, at the store, these two girls followed us around, crying. Crying. What the hell? They kept saying something about a 'death day'.

I hate people.

_**January 31**__**st**__**, 2010**_

Well, this is it. The end of January.

What a useless month.

Maybe next month will be better. Or less painful. I really need to get Matt that muzzle.

* * *

**Reviews? Awesome.**


	3. February

**Does anyone actually read this?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all.**

* * *

_**February 1**__**st**__**, 2010**_

Today is Matt's birthday. He hasn't woken up yet though. Maybe I should be nicer to him today… okay, well maybe that is asking a bit much. But I guess I could leave some hot water after my shower today. That's a good birthday present, right?

… Just looked at my hand. I've still got scars from when he bit me. Fuck that, no hot water for him today. Or ever.

_**February 2**__**nd**__**, 2010**_

Not buying Matt a birthday present… did not go over well.

And that's the understatement of the year.

Hope my face didn't hurt his fist too much. And after I left a little bit of hot water too… Last time I do something nice for someone.

_**February 5**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Today Linda asked me whether I knew I'm supposed to use my fists to hit punching bags, and not my face.

Seriously, there's got to be some kind of best-friend-abuse hotline. Right?

_**February 12**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Going out to get Matt a real birthday present. But seriously, the last thing he bought me were assless pants. Assless _leather_ pants.

How do you top that?

I mean… unless they were bedazzled assless leather pants. That would be fucking tight.

_**February 15**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Matt liked his present.

I'd tell you what it was, but I can't have incriminating evidence written down. You know, future liability in case someone ever reads this and all that. I'll just say a few choice words:

Naked

Mango

Racquet ball

…by the way, I got him a new Wii remote, you perverts.

_**February 17**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Everyone in Wammy's had to take an career aptitude test today. Keep us aware of our options if we aren't chosen to be L by the time we're eighteen.

Apparently, I'm best suited for a career in social services. Working with _people. _For little to no money.

I laughed so hard I threw up a little.

_**February 21**__**st**__**, 2010**_

Been thinking about the whole career thing. If I'm not L, than what am I?

Maybe I'll join the mafia one day. That would be totally badass.

And there's no way I would be involved in any sort of life-threatening explosions in the mafia. No way in hell.

_**February 26**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Today at the mall (I went. Again. Why???) a cashier called me ma'am.

Skin tight leather pants and immaculate blonde hair are nothing if not manly! People must be blind.

_**February 28**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Last day of February. My hopes of this month being worth the paper used to print its calendar page? Completely dashed.

And to make things worse, New Moon is coming out next month. Matt's going to make me watch it.

Suddenly, gouging my eyes out sounds very appealing….

Goodbye, February. It's been craptastic.

* * *

**Leave me a review? Cheer me up? My hiatus is over. =]**


	4. March

**It's been awhile dear internet. I wrote this for you.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Ever.**

**

* * *

**

_**March 2**__**nd**__**, 2010**_

Well the month of March is off to a bitch-tacular start. Roger called me into his office today and told me I _had_ to join an extracurricular activity to "build character and promote bonding with your fellow classmates".

Yeah, that's right. He wants me to join a fucking club. And bond. Whatever the hell that means. Sounds kinky.

I told him I'm already involved in a very time-consuming extracurricular. He said beating up the other kids doesn't count.

Damnit.

_**March 3**__**rd**__**, 2010**_

Looked around at the club options in Wammy's. I can either join a club with nerds, geeks or… oh, that's right. More fucking nerds.

Instead, I drew up a proposal for Roger. It was a chart of all the skills that I'm honing by being in my own club.

Enterprise- It's tough to think up and run a club all by yourself, while at the same time hiding all the chocolate from your crazed roommate.

Accounting- Gotta keep track of all the money I steal from the other kids. Those quarters don't count themselves, ya know.

Resourcefulness- Finding new places to hide to ambush kids isn't easy.

Responsibility- I'm only doing my duty in keeping these kids on their toes. Without me they'd get lazy.

See? It's fucking foolproof.

_**March 7**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Roger rejected my proposal.

Well, it wasn't so much a rejection as a… putting his head in his hands and making this sound in the back of his throat. Kind of like a cat that's stuck in a dryer. I left before he could start hacking up a furball. Fucking gross.

_**March 13**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Tried out Matt's club today. Gamer's Society. I was not aware that the word society could be applied to two teenage boys sitting in the dark and arguing over Halo: Reach. I think the standards of good people over at Webster's might be slipping.

Not joining Gamer's Society though. Halfway through, I _may_ have said something or other about how much I hate gaming.

You know what's sad? The nurse here is now able to recognize Matt's handiwork and actually congratulated him on throwing such a well-aimed punch.

_**March 17**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Thought I'd try out the Marksmen Club. No clue what it meant. Thought it sounded kinda kinky.

Even better. Fucking GUNS.

That lasted for all of two minutes. Roger came running out and said the day he let me shoot a rifle is the day pigs fly.

Fucking pigs better work on growing those wings.

_**March 24**__**nd**__**, 2010**_

Tried a bunch of other clubs. Here's a list of things I officially reject from the face of the planet:

Robotics

Volunteer work

Archery (If it's not a gun, I see no point)

Medieval Literature

Near

Anything involving lanyards.

I give up. Maybe I'll just join the underwater basket weaving club.

Not really. That sounds fucking hard.

_**March 30, 2010**_

Well, March is pretty much over, and the only new thing I learned is that I hope Near falls off of something tall and lands on something sharp.

Oh, and that clubs are a pointless waste of time. Including the Baking Club. Which may or may not be where I ended up.

They have chocolate. Don't you fucking judge me.

* * *

**Reviews? I'll love you forever.**


	5. April

**Edit: Sorry for the double post. Took it down to fix some truly atrocious errors. **

**A new chapter? So soon? What is wrong with me, updating like a normal person. **

**By the way, I'm sorry that Mello's such a douchebag in my mind. At least for this story. I realized I'm making him a horrible, horrible person.**

**I'm pretty much okay with that. **

**Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah **

**

* * *

**

_**April 1**__**st**__**, 2010**_

This is it, diary. Wait- no, I'm calling you journal. I'm pretty sure they'll take away my man card if I willingly write the word diary more than three times in a month.

But that's beside the point. Today is it. The day. The day above all days. Fucking April Fool's Day. The only day of the whole year where asshole-ish behavior is not only accepted… it's encouraged.

I've been preparing for weeks. I had the perfect plans thought out to best maximize my douche-fuckery on this most holy of days. Everything was ready, and then…

I fucking slept through it. Apparently Matt's idea of an April Fool's joke is to turn off my alarm. It's two minutes to midnight on the first day of the month and I can already tell this is going to be one of _those_ months. You know, the months when the world seems bleak and depressing and you realize how futile human struggling really is.

So basically, just like every other month. Hello April.

_**April 5**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Let's switch things up a little, journal. Today, I'm just going to write in hypotheticals. Because NONE OF WHAT I AM SAYING IS IN ANY WAY TRUE AND IF IT WERE TRUE THAN IT DEFINETLEY DIDN'T HAPPEN TODAY. At all.

So let's say that _hypothetically_ you were a stunningly attractive blonde teenager (which is just fucking stupid. You're a notebook. You're not even an attractive color. Seriously, who thought up the color puce? They should be shot.)

And _hypothetically _you were forced to join a baking club that consists of the most annoyingly shrieky, specimens of humanity ever dredged from the cesspool that is life. Then _hypothetically _one of them called you a chick.

You'd totally set her backpack on fire, right?

Hypothetically of course.

_**April 6**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Two matches, some lighter fluid, and a singed chemistry book later, and I am officially no longer part of the baking club.

I'm also not allowed within fifty feet of Linda.

But that's beside the point. Now I'm free to get back to my oh-so lucrative business of beating the crap out of my schoolmates for pocket change.

Now who ever said you can't aim high in life?

_**April 13**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Roger got me a job.

A fucking job.

At a fast food restaurant.

Dear Kira, please kill me now.

_**April 15**__**th**__**, 2010**_

Second day on the job, and I've got some serious questions to ask God, or whatever other almighty power there is in the universe.

What did I do? Was I a douchebag in a past life too? Wouldn't it have been easier to just reincarnate me a snail?

In fact, yeah, that would probably be a lot more enjoyable than this job. Today, I got called ma'am. Again. I wish I could make a joke out of that, but really? What's that, the third time in the last few months?

Let me tell you, I am made of pure MAN RAEG. I cry tears of 100% pure testosterone. There is more manliness in my pinky finger than the last twenty years of Chuck Norris's career.

And now I've gotta go fix my nail polish. It's chipped.

Hey, whoever said a man can't look good?

_**April 23**__**rd**__**, 2010**_

I thought long and hard about it, and maybe I'm just not giving this job a chance. Maybe I should sit back and contemplate my life. Maybe I should think over my past decisions and change the way I treat people. Maybe I should-

Nah, that's just dumb. I fucking rock. So instead of reevaluating my life choices and trying to make amends with all the people I've hurt, I decided to make a list of all the things I hate about my new job. Completely worth my time.

-The uniform sucks

-The customers suck

-My boss sucks

-Having to go to work right after class sucks

-Near sucks

_**April 29**__**th**__**, 2010**_

I was totally right about this month sucking balls.

But that's all right, I've got a plan. Next month… I'm getting fired.

Should be fairly simple right? What do you have to do to get fired these days? Murder? Arson? …Streaking?

All three of those sound fucking awesome.

* * *

**So, I was reading over the earlier chapters and I noticed something. Who wants to play spot the giant plot hole? And that's sad because this fic has barely any plot to begin with. **

**I'll give you a hint, it's in the first two chapters.**

**Reviews? Even if it's to tell me what a flaming moron I am.**


	6. May

**Short chapter is short. I am sleepy.**

**

* * *

**

_**May 8**__**th**__**, 2011**_

So I've already wasted a whole week of May trying to get fired from that dumb-ass job. In the process I've learned something very important. Apparently it is near-impossible to get fired if you're a reasonably attractive, young male in this day and age. Sexual harassment: It's not just for the ladies anymore!

Seriously, who would have thought that having finely sculpted abs and an ass like a gift from God would be such good job security?

I'll figure out a way to get out of this though. This job is taking up way too much of my time; I've small children to mentally scar.

For now though, I should go. My fist is late for an appointment with Near's face.

_**May 10**__**th**__**, 2011**_

Today, I refilled all the salt shakers with sugar. No one even complained. Clearly I'm going to have to try harder.

Maybe I should have filled them with heroin instead.

On second thought, they'd probably love me so much after that they'd never fire me.

_**May 14**__**th**__**, 2011**_

Matt came in today. I thought maybe if I made out with him my boss would get all squicked out and fire me.

No such luck. Turns out she's a fan.

Now I taste like cigarettes and there's a video of me and Matt making out on Youtube. It already has seven thousand hits.

I hate my life.

_**May 17**__**th**__**, 2011**_

Okay, I'm getting desperate here. I just got promoted. How does this happen? Yesterday I replaced all the French fries with PVC pipes. (Don't ask; it was very difficult.)

I'm starting to think my boss has brain damage.

_**May 19**__**th**__**, 2011**_

I'm naked, covered in bacon grease, and I am fairly certain there is a small goldfish lodged someplace extremely uncomfortable.

And yet I still have a job. HOW?

_**May 23**__**rd**__**, 2011**_

I can't believe I, Mello, am about to say this. But…

I think I'm going to give up on getting fired. If lighting Andy the dishwashing guy on fire and then doing a dance of glee wearing a lettuce leaf doesn't do it, then nothing will. Nothing.

And it's nice to have some extra cash. Something's gotta cover those doctor's bills that inevitably build up when you're best friends with Matt.

_**May 27**__**th**__**, 2011**_

Fuck my life, journal. Fuck it with something hard and sandpaper-y.

Apparently the key to getting fired is…. actually appreciating your job.

My fist is late for it's weekly appointment again. I'm sure Near's stupid face is getting lonely. And if that doesn't cheer me up, I can always do the dance of sadness. It's not as fun as the dance of glee, but it will do. I'll need some supplies first though.

Hmmmm, now where can I find celery and four radishes at this time of night?

* * *

**I love you all immensely. Reviews? Please? =]**


	7. June

**It's been so long!**

**Trying to ease back into the whole fanfiction thing.**

* * *

_**June 3**__**rd**__**, 2010**_

Journal, I have big news.

I'm in love.

I can't think of anything else, my mind is too consumed with thoughts of love. I feel like Cupid shot an arrow into my finely sculpted ass-cheek.

So yes, it finally happened. I'm in love with Ghirardelli.

Fuck Hershey. I'm never going back.

_**June 10**__**th**__**, 2010**_

I take my Ghirardelli bar with me everywhere. People are fucking rude though, with all the pointing.

And I keep telling Matt when he stares, it makes her uncomfortable. It's like he's never seen a guy make our with a wonderful, creamy bar of chocolate before.

Fucking loser.

_**June 13**__**th**__**, 2010**_

I've decided to give her a name.

Ms. Delicious.

It's fucking foolproof.

_**June 20**__**th**__**, 2010**_

MS. DELICIOUS IS GONE.

I don't know where she went! I had this awesome dream that I was chowing down on a giant hunk of chocolate, and when I woke up she was missing!

There are tiny bits of chocolate all over the floor. I suspect Matt.

He'll pay. You can't just eat someone else's life and get away with it.

Probably.

_**June 25**__**th**__**, 2010**_

I've tried everything journal, and Matt won't budge. He won't tell me what he did with her!

Although his fist did have a message for my face.

A message of pain.

I need a new fucking friend.

_**June 30**__**th**__**, 2010**_

I think…. I think I just have to accept it. Ms. Delicious is gone.

Also, Roger told me I have to stop holding midnight candlelight vigils

Apparently six times is one too many of lighting Linda's hair on fire.

Huh, who knew?

* * *

**Reviews? Please and thank you. =D**


	8. July

_**July 3, 2010**_

Journal, I have one fucking word for you.

Sports.

Yesterday Roger told me I had to find a new 'physical activity class'. Apparently he found out I kept making the track and running coach cry. So I let the guy's shorts on fire a few dozen times, big deal. What a wimp.

When I asked Roger why I couldn't just quit gym, he said 'you must exercise the mind and the body'.

Hippie bullshit. Fuck you, John Mayer, my body is already a wonderland.

_**July 8, 2010**_

Yesterday I tried out the weight-lifting class. Let me tell you , watching nerds try to lift weights is the most fucking hilarious thing I've ever seen. I made of C so hard that I thought a vein in his forehead was gonna bust.

Wish it had. That would have been fucking sweet.

Instead I dropped the weight I was holding. On my toe.

And it was my favorite toe too. Fuck this class.

_**July 15, 2010**_

Roger suggested I try out yoga. I laughed so hard I nearly pissed myself. Turned out he was serious.

But hey, I thought, girls in yoga pants. What could be bad about that?

Oh wait.

_Guys_ in yoga pants. This is not okay. I need to go bleach my eyeballs now.

_**July 19, 2010**_

YES. I've found it. It's like the mother ship calling me home. Matt told me I should join boxing class. I ignored the part where he said that then I'd actually be able to hit him back.

So yeah, boxing.

AN ENTIRE SPORT BASED OFF OF HITTING PEOPLE. This is the most beautiful sentence that has ever been committed to paper. Tomorrow I'm gonna go punch the shit out of some people. And it will be _entirely legal._

This is my best day of my life.

_**July 20, 2010**_

This is the worst day of my life. Matt told the boxing coach I was going to join. That fucker canceled class and FLED THE COUNTRY.

Who does that?

I mean, I just want to hit things. Is that so wrong?

_**July 26, 2010**_

It's nearly the end of the month, and I still haven't joined a sport. But hey, Roger can't be mad. I tried a shit-ton of them, just like he wanted. When he asked why I didn't join any of them, I gave him this list.

Swimming: Fuck you if you think I'm going to mess up my hair. You know how long it takes to look this good?

Tennis: I see no point in hitting things if it's not with my fist.

Basketball: Sweat. No.

He just sort of made that sound in his throat again. The one that he likes to make whenever he has to call me into his office. Kind of like a dying whale-puppy. Creepy.

Oh well. Maybe he's getting sick. That would be awesome. I could send him a get-well card. Full of bees.

July gets an 8 out of 10 in my book.

* * *

**Reviews? You guys are awesome.**


End file.
